


Destruction is a form of creation

by NaraMerald



Series: Twisted Kingdom [2]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Donnie Darko (2001)
Genre: Insanity, Threats, Twisted Kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7012234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraMerald/pseuds/NaraMerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. 82. 3. 24. 51. </p>
<p>Until Witch will unleash the Ebony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destruction is a form of creation

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from FF.net

Tersa lived in a cottage with a Journeymaid Black Widow. She saw the sunlight for what it was. Had interacted with Jaenelle, Queen of Ebon Askavi and her coven, traded spells and craft ideas. Had had quiet conversations with Saetan SaDiablo, the High Lord of Hell. She had regained not all, but most of her Sanity. As much as she could claim while keeping her craft after being broken. She had, after all, shattered the chalice.

Tersa sat back, looking at the tangled web.

It showed her a memory.

_Wake up Tersa, Wake up._

Tersa set back her shoulders. She did not fear the Twisted Kingdom. Nor the one who ruled on the throne of Chaos.

This then, was a message, a warning. Things were moving again, moving fast. She would again be needed to play a part.

Hearing the Journeymaid descend down the stairs, she reached out, crushing the web, making sure the other could not read it. None could now, not even Witch. This was a message for Tersa alone. It was time.

 

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**1:82:3:24:51**

 

_Wake up Tersa_

The Black Widow rose through the curtains of sleep, quickly drifting to consciousness.

_Wake up_

Tersa shifted, turning to look once more at the one who ruled the Twisted Kingdom. The King of Chaos. The Lord of time. The one with the craft she had never seen again, in all the time she spent with Witch.

Tersa waited.

 

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_1\. 82. 3. 24. 51_

She understood now. This was her new time frame. One year. 82 days. 3 Hours. 24 minutes. 51 seconds. Until what?

_Until Witch will unleash the Ebony._

Tersa waited, seeing what he would ask of her.

_You have until then to gather the craft you need to save the soul of my daughter's daughter._

Daughter's daughter? She looked at him, watching without fright as the iridescent silver swirls stretched far away and the paths of the Twisted Kingdom took him elsewhere.

Saetan is the father of her soul…

And now Tersa knew the mother. Settling herself, she would wait patiently. He would show her when they were ready.

 

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**1\. 72. 12. 38. 7**

"I'm worried about Tersa. She showed me her paintings when I visited her this week. One for each day. And they had one thing in common. Numbers. They always began with a One. The next number was a countdown. Seventy-seven. Seventy-six. Seventy-five. Seventy-four. Seventy-three. And then three other numbers on each." Saetan SaDiablo turned to find he was no longer facing his daughter Jaenelle. Witch stared back.

"And what were the paintings of?" Witch asked quietly.

"One was Black, Charcoal almost. Swirls and swirls of the Darkest Black." Saetan mused. How had she gotten the colour so dark? Perhaps she had used craft?

"Ebony." Witch interrupted his musings.

"Yes…" Yes he saw now it was not Black, not Charcoal… Ebony. He looked at Witch. Witch wore Ebony. His heart beat a little faster remembering the others.

"What were the other paintings of?" She asked.

"One was destruction. Chaos…" Saetan fell silent, unable to describe the feelings it had evoked in him. Witch waited.

"Another was rebirth. A brightness amongst Rainbow. A new dawn from the darkness." He had wondered, wondered how Tersa's stark, childlike drawings could portray so much. The black on the side had been so bleak compared to the shimmery rainbow and light that seemed to spring forth. He looked at the daughter of his soul. Those sapphire eyes seemed to read him, slide his thoughts from his mind, understand them and leave him none the wiser.

"Another was blood reds… browns… grey-greens…bleak unappealing colours." It struck him then what the underlying message had been. "Decay."

Witch nodded, processing this information in a way Saetan could only hope to one day understand.

"What was the last painting?" his Queen asked him. This was the question he had not wanted to answer. He had not liked this painting. He did not understand this painting.

"I don't know." Witch looked at him, accepted the answer and turned to leave.

He stopped.

"Wait."

She turned to face him, pity in her eyes.

"It was the Twisted Kingdom." Saetan answered her unspoken question, the word bitter in his mouth.

 

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**1:23:59:58**

_Wake up Tersa._

_Wake up._

Tersa walked outside.

He waited. Leaving her body behind, she slipped into her mind, into the Twisted Kingdom. Into a path Jaenelle had shown her- a path she could walk both ways. The silver echoed around her, her time-path stretched deeper, deeper. Finally it stopped and she looked at him.

Fearsome, metallic. Rabbit. She did not fear him though.

_Witch did not completely understand your paintings. But she is now aware._

Tersa looked around, the jagged and sharp edges of the Twisted Kingdom loomed, wanting to claim her back. But Tersa could wait a little longer. This was important.

_Soon it will be time to visit the Black Widows of Arachna. They will understand. I will help you through the webs._

Tersa nodded. She did not understand why now, but she would later. There was no hurry.

Why do you meddle in the world above? She wondered.

He could have told her that it was not the world above. Or the world below. Or even to the side. The worlds were intertwined so delicately, so subtly that only Witch could live in both worlds. None knew, not even her. None bar him. Then, he knew many things they didn't. He was not of their world.

Instead he looked into Tersa's trusting eyes and told her a truth the Cildru Dyathe would have understood.

_Every creature on this earth dies alone._

And he disappeared, leaving her to stuggle up the sharp, painful slope of the path to the other-world, the world above, thinking on his words. They brought Tersa some sadness, but more thought than emotion. And the Journeymaid never asked about the cuts and scratches on Tersa's arms and the one on her face.

 

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**98\. 9. 3. 51**  
Karla looked over her court, her imperial face on. She was the Queen. So why was she so uneasy? Her master of the guard noticed her stiffness and moved imperceptibly closer. Morton stiffened, subtly picking up her emotion. She turned and attempted a reassuring smile at him. But she couldn't help remembering the people here, people in this room who had supported Lord Hobart. The people who wanted her dead and him back.

I wear the Gray. Karla steadied her breathing. I wear the Gray.

She turned to address her court. Her first circle she had complete confidence in. Her second she trusted. Her third circle was filled with important witches from Hobart's time. Warlords and witches she couldn't offend but didn't trust. But Karla had had her Virgin Night. And she had the support of the Lady of the Black Mountain. Who would cross a witch in the first circle of Jaenelle Angelline, Queen of Ebon Askavi? Niece of Saetan SaDiablo?

Morton looked at the crowd, his face showing a little of his discomfit. This court was so new, so fragile. Karla was so fragile. There had been rumours of discontentment, they all knew people wanted her out of the way so Hobart could continue with his 'adjustments' to Glacian society. And he was still out there, somewhere. Somewhere, he was waiting. The whispers had sprung up again like wildfire.

Try as he might, Morton, first Escort to the Queen of Glacia, Karla, could not feel comfortable facing these people. Not yet.

 

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**70\. 19. 56. 3.**

_Wake up Tersa._

Tersa rose before he'd repeated the command. Shadows painted cobwebs in the dark room.

Why always at night? She'd wondered.

_Because night is the most interesting time, the most wild. Night is the time of passion, power, vitality. This night, I rule._

Tersa noted he was right, this night was different- this night promised. His nights were the best nights for craft or adventure. Not all nights were like these, not all his. She loved the conversations they never really had. After all, you cant have a conversation without saying anything. That's what they thought. But she knew… you could.

The feeling of his presence faded from her, but not before his voice came faintly to her.

_Father, Brother, Lover. The triangle is breaking. They must stay together._

And he was gone.

Tersa did not understand. There were many fathers, many brothers… some lovers. She walked outside- this was his night, it could guide her. Feeling the deep cold bite of the snow on her bare feet she felt alive. And then she knew what she needed to do to understand. She sharpened a fingernail with craft. Craft she wouldn't have had if not for the Twisted Kingdom. And then she bent down and cut her heels, enough to let blood run thickly, freely. The cold wind went straight through the nightgown she wore but there were things more important at work here. She could feel it, hear it. This warning would be given but once.

She waited, swaying silently to the music of the air, the trees rustling. The lure of the un-ordinary. And began to walk. She drifted over the snow on cold prickling flesh. Flesh didn't like the snow. Too much of a heat and lack extreme.

It was time to stop. But what now? Yes, turn, that was the key. She turned until the whispers in the trees grew the loudest… and then began to walk once more. Letting the trees guide her, she walked, stopped, turned. Heard their pattern if not their words. Tersa couldn't understand the speech of trees. But that didn't mean she didn't hear them talk. Tersa noticed a lot of things most didn't.

Now what?

Clear. You need to get clear of your vision.

Tersa jumped. Landed. Saw the intruder. Who dared interrupt her work?

The journeymaid swallowed whatever she was going to say at the look in Tersa's eyes and simply tore strips for Tersa's ankles from the nightgown. And Tersa ran upstairs to look.

What she'd heard and not understood sharpened into crystal. Her blood… and the triangle… Two sides held strong…. But one side was drifting away. He'd always be strong, but the boy… if he wasn't thrown a line soon there would be nothing left to save. That one wasn't meant to return to the Twisted Kingdom but there was danger of it happening if the three were not together in… Terielle? Why, Tersa knew not. The father, the brother and … her blood… the lover.

The boy… her son…

The shards of the Twisted Kingdom twittered and fell around her mind like soft rain as she slipped away… And all the Journeymaid could do was watch and wait for Sanity to reassert itself.

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**51:2:9:45**

 

Smoke whined and pawed at the ground. Jaenelle sat in the garden, the ebony hourglasses turning over once more. Witch wanted thinking time. The sand trickled down. Ladvarian sat beside him. The Kindred were concerned. Something had changed. They just didn't know what.

As Kaelas loped up to them, the hourglass turned upside down for a fourth time. The black grains symbolising the time that was running out…

He was there again, Tersa noted.

But this time, this time was different. She wasn't in the Twisted Kingdom was she?

"Tersa." Tersa's senses writhed. The voice sounded like…voices. Something about that voice made her dizzy and unsure of herself, where was she? Tersa didn't think he meant to do that. But he had used a voice! He was on their plane, in their world.

"Why is your voice like that?" she asked.

"Tersa?" Daemon walked towards her. "Who were you talking to?"

Tersa did not have to turn back to know he was gone. She looked up at Daemon, both disappointed and happy to see him, her eyes that little bit unfocussed. She put on a bright smile and shrugged, before walking away, ignoring the sharp attention in his eyes.

Daemon looked after her. He'd felt that dammit, he'd felt that. The air had vibrated with the feel of the Twisted Kingdom. He looked over to where Saetan sat talking to Jaenelle. Saetan looked up, as if sensing Daemon's discomfort. There had been no reaction from them. They didn't feel it. That much power only unleashed within a tiny radius. Chilled, Daemon looked after Tersa's retreating back.

And his jewels gave off a slight hum before settling back to normal.

 

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**33\. 3. 3. 33**

_Wake up Tersa:._

_The witch looked lost. Any good citizen would ask if she needed help. Her messy black hair and meandering gait would have shamed any aristo witch worth her salt. But not the ones looking at her now. Black eyes watched carefully as the one they didn't know brushed through their webs, casually evading traps to ensnare the unwary mind. But none had visited, none bar Jaenelle. Who then, was this, whose mind was so strong the subtle but inescapable pull could be avoided?_

_A clicking sound arose as the Arachnians wondered what to do._

_If Lost One finds me then meant to be, came the Queen's instructions. Clicking in agitation, they crawled a little closer, unnoticed by the Lost One._

_Another potent web, evaded!_

_How can Lost-One resist pull of webs? No power felt by me, an Arachnian asked._

_Their Queen silenced them._

_Saw her come, will know soon if she is Lost-One. If yes, her mind drawn into Twisted Kingdom- Webs cannot pull her mind for not there… he gives protection…_

_There was a stirring of clicks at this._

_The Arachnians knew well enough who 'He' was. What he stood for._

_And so it was that the 'Lost one' came to meet the Queen of Arachnia, each to do his bidding._

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_**11\. 1. 1. 11** _

_Ladvarian looked at her. Lost-one._

_She had given the craft… craft Ladvarian had not seen before. The Lady was in trouble, the Kindred's Black Widows had all warned this. And the kindred were all prepared to anchor the dream to the flesh, they had just needed the how._

_And now the Lost-one had given the how._

_"And the blood shall sing to the Blood…" She whispered to him. Ladvarian had always known there was more to the Lost-one than most humans perceived. Now she was showing it. In her own way she served… served Witch and other. Ladvarian did not know the other. And did not know whether he wanted to know._

_"The weaver of dreams says to not be afraid. Accept Lorn's gift little brother. Lorn wants to see you." Ladvarian whined. He knew Lorn lived. Meeting Lorn… that was another thing._

_He looked up from his musings to see Tersa wandering off. The Lost-one ready to finish the plans and put them into place._

_And he, Ladvarian had somewhere to be._

_Knowledge crashed in on Ladvarian. He whined, ready to challenge Lorn. Then looked up. No challenge was in Lorn's eyes. The Jewel itself glittered, shimmering, restless._

_A tugging. Merge, merge. Ladvarian pushed his mind away from the Jewel._

__It does not know what it is. It has no name._ Ladvarian stated, unwilling to take this foreign jewel._

__It does not know what it is, but it does have a name. Twilight's Dawn. There is no other like it._ _

_Ladvarian stared into the shimmering depths. Twilight's Dawn. He did not know it's purpose, but it suited Witch. It suited her._

_He took the Jewel and went back to preparations._

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_**4:17:51:38** _

_"I understand now…" Jaenelle said staring into the distance. "Tersa said the triangle must stick together." Daemon looked up. Preparing to give up his all. For her._

_"I see." But he didn't. Until she explained. Oh Witch knew the Sadist could do this._

_"Daemon…. I need three days." Daemon stared at her, uncomprehending._

_"Three days?"_

_"I need three days to descend to my full strength."_

_Three days. Three DAYS._

_Daemon's mask slipped into place… then he dropped it. The mask would have hurt Jaenelle more than his shock. He accepted her, loved her. He always would._

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_**3\. 19. 12. 49.** _

_This was the game the Sadist would play. Daemon hardened his heart. Anything for Jaenelle. Destroy Lucivar? Shatter him?_

_Anything for Jaenelle. ANYTHING for Witch. He would give his soul for her. Looking at himself in the mirror, he tightened his cufflinks. After this would he have his soul? He was saving them wasn't he?_

_"For you Jaenelle." He whispered._

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_**3\. 17. 28. 31** _

_"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Lucivar rushed again and again as Daemon hardened his heart, strengthened his impossibly strong black Shields._

_"Crawl back." Lucivar did._

_As Lucivar's desperation, despair crashed in on him, Daemon used the memory of Witch to hold him together._

_Ah Jaenelle…_

_Saetan stared shocked at what he'd created._

_"I have only one son."_

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_**2\. 23. 55. 13** _

_Saetan stirred… so hard… too late now…_

_"Drink this…" That voice sounded frantic, concerned. He knew that voice… he- WOAH Saetan would have wheezed if he had the breath. When he managed to open his eyes, there was no one there, but Saetan tasted blood… Blood that was not his…_

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_**1\. 16. 11. 32.** _

__It was a pleasure serving you Saetan, an honour to be your friend._ _

__Andulvar? I don't understand._ _

__Protect her. Take care of her. Love her._ _

_Shaken by the vision, Saetan looked to see what had disturbed him, as Daemon deliberately dropped the bangles down. What did they mean? Bangles… bangles…_

__Sspiralss_ _

__"Sshe will alwayss sspiral- you cannot prevent thiss. Sshield her with your love, sshield her… or it will be the end of the Blood."_ _

_Sspiralss._

_"You will all retreat to the keep. The only thing injured will be your pride." Witch declared._

_"But-" Gabrielle interjected angrily_

_"You WILL retreat."_

_"Who is going to war?" Karla was afraid to ask, afraid she knew the answer. Her fear was reflected in Gabrielle._

_"I am." Witch replied._

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_**0\. 3. 21. 16.** _

_Saetan stared at Daemon. He didn't kill them- Marian, Daemonar, Lucivar. Saetan couldn't think of an apology to make things better._

_He'd believed Daemon's ploy. Believed. And Saetan knew, far better than anyone, that whatever Witch commanded, Daemon would do._

_Daemon would do anything for Witch._

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_**0\. 1. 1. 59** _

_Tersa wandered over, counting in her head. She looked at the faint white lines from last time on her left arm. And the 1. 82. 3. 24. 51 on her right._

_Today._

_Witch was up there, ready to unleash the Ebony. Daemon and Saetan were the only ones not in the keep, not protected from the Maelstrom. The Sacrifice had been made. The Demon-dead had stepped in. The Kindred were ready. Now it was time for the humans to do their part._

_"But why?" Karla asked Ladvarian. Tersa seemed… disapproving? None of the Kindred asked why… they just did it._

_"Is this… is what she's doing… dangerous?"_

_Tersa just nodded._

_"Aren't you going to give the gift?" Gabrielle asked Tersa, Karla watching closely. And the Blood will sing to the Blood._

_"I already have." Tersa closed her eyes. Her part was done._

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_**0\. 0. 7. 36**   
_Tersa:._ _

__She looked at him._ _

___Daemon and Saetan have entered the Keep. Father, Brother, Lover. The strongest dreamers… If anyone can save her, it is them. Now is the time… when Dreams will be unleashed. Goodbye Tersa._ _ _

__And then he left._ _

__"Lie down everyone." Tersa commanded as the nervous witches and warlords complied, holding hands and whispering wishes. Praying for themselves… and Witch._ _

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__**0\. 0. 0. 1**  
The keep seemed to take in a reflexive breath, the calm before the storm… Then…_ _

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__**0\. 0. 0. 0.** _ _

__Lightening struck and thunder rolled overhead as it happened, dark power rolling over everyone in the room. Tersa held on, riding the waves. She heard someone scream. She felt Witch ripping through the webs, the power going out headed for Terrielle. She felt connected with him, with Chaos. She felt the jewelled power exploding, fading, like lights going out one by one. Tainted blood vanishing, exploding. She felt the wind whistle as Witch fell crashing through the webs. Heard the strained cries of the Triangle. Saetan. Lucivar. Daemon._ _

__And then it was silent._ _

__Then everything was silent._ _


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